


AS

by Frostfire



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-04
Updated: 2005-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostfire/pseuds/Frostfire
Summary: John and Rodney are guys.





	

Day 1 AS, Rodney runs into John at lunch. He’s struck by a sudden full-body sensory flashback of John’s naked body arching under his, and he can't think of a single thing to say.

From the looks of things, John’s in the same position. The look on his face would be priceless if the reason was anyone but Rodney; as it is, Rodney’s stuck with a mild sick feeling in his stomach, like he’s about to see a train wreck. They steer in opposite directions, John setting his we’re-pretending-this-is-spaghetti down next to Teyla, and Rodney putting his next to Radek. Radek’s halfway through an explanation of his new wormhole physics theory before Rodney remembers he’s supposed to know things about this and has to start listening.

 

Day 2 AS, John has to come into the lab to activate some particularly sensitive Ancient technology. When he sees Rodney, he flushes red.

“Here for the thing,” he says, eyes darting around the lab.

“Right here,” says Rodney, staring at it and only it. Really staring. He briefly wonders if the artificial ATA gene would let him actually bore holes in things with his eyes, and then deliberately doesn’t think about what he’d like to bore holes into. When John’s hand descends, lightly, carefully, he looks away.

 

Day 3, there’s a mission briefing. They’ve got to at least _try_ to look normal, Rodney orders himself, because Elizabeth will descend on them as Concerned Mother of Atlantis if she senses anything wrong. Plus they should start practicing for the rest of their natural lives.

They sit at opposite ends of the table. Rodney brings a sandwich and pretends to be totally dissatisfied with the Atlantean level of cuisine, which is not hard at _all_ , and directs all his comments to Ford, who’s always willing to take up the gauntlet of derisively witty banter, although he likes to pretend he’s just cutting through other people’s bullshit.

Elizabeth eventually puts a stop to it, with an exasperated look at John, which turns confused when she realizes that John is staring abstractly at—

Rodney. Right. He sits up brightly. “So, where are we off to next?”

 

Day 4 is the actual mission. Rodney heads through the wormhole determined to act absolutely normal, and catches himself when his brain starts hoping for a native ceremony that requires the leader of the team to strip naked. Or maybe a Wraith, killed at the last second—although even Rodney’s fantasy brain can’t quite make up a situation where _Rodney_ ’s the one heroically doing the killing—just as it’s ripped off John’s shirt. 

Normal. Normal. Right.

Later, when they’re strapped back-to-back to a stake and the native priests are off preparing the sacred torch, Rodney thinks about totally inappropriate jokes concerning how hot John is. He thinks about how burning alive is absolutely one of his least favorite ways to go. He wonders if he’s thinking that John Sheppard is the perfect dying companion only because he’s _used_ to having John around when he’s about to die. He wants to have sex one last time before he dies.

He yells over the noise of the crowd, “Nice night for a bonfire!”

“Are you panicking?” John yells back.

Rodney thinks he might have gone beyond that by now. “I think I might have gone beyond that by now!” he yells. A pause. Okay, his brain is connected to his mouth more directly than usual--with sudden clarity, he tells himselfdon't think about sex.  


“What about sex?” John yells.

But then Ford and Teyla show up with Stackhouse and the puddlejumper, and Rodney doesn’t have to answer, which is good because he doesn’t know. Which is a rare occurrence, for him, but it rapidly becomes less important in the face of not being about to be burnt alive. He abruptly can’t stop smiling. He turns to John to share the joy and is caught in the patented Sheppard grin. It rocks him back on his heels, and he flashes back to seeing that grin right before John ducked his head and—

“Did I hear you say something about sex, before?” John asks, and then stops. Rodney’s betting that that only slipped out with help from euphoria.

“No,” he says. “No, I was—I was.” Pause. “I don’t remember what I was talking about,” which is a lame excuse but also the absolute truth.

John looks—something. Several things. “Oh,” he says.

 

Days 5 and 6 AS, they don’t see each other. Rodney stays in the lab and eats MREs, and John does whatever military people do when they’re avoiding something, and it all works out fine except for Radek catching on.

“Here, look at this,” holding up something that looks weapony. “Major Sheppard would like to see it, hm? And maybe he can turn it on, too, and save us the trouble of dissecting it.”

“Absolutely not,” says Rodney. “What I’m doing is more important.”

Radek lifts an eyebrow. “More important than a possible weapon against the Wraith?”

“ _This_ is a possible _not dying_ against the Wraith, which is more important,” and Rodney isn’t making any sense, but he can’t help himself because he’s stuck back in his room six nights ago with John Sheppard sucking his dick.

Radek spends a few minutes looking at him, then comes over and sits down. “All right. What is going on between you and Major Sheppard? Was there a fight?”

Rodney stares at Radek. “How do you _do_ that? I’m starting to think you spend every night monitoring everyone’s quarters.”

“Not every night. I save the special occasions for sleep and occasionally drunken abandon. Now. What is the problem?”

“Oh, no way am I _telling_ you. Unless you can use your special psychic powers to figure it out,” and isn’t that a frightening thought, “tough luck.” A minute or so of silence, and Rodney relents slightly. “It should blow over in a few days.”

Radek eyes him. “All right. But if it doesn’t, I will bring Major Sheppard down here whether you like it or not, and then I will _use_ my special psychic powers to find out what it is.”

The scary thing is that Rodney believes Radek could do it.

 

Day 7, they see each other in the corridor and stop short. Rodney is very carefully not looking at John’s mouth when he hears, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he responds, and can’t stop there. “So, did you hear about Neilson? Almost blew up half the city yesterday, it was a miracle I was there at the right time to catch it. I mean, who needs Wraith when you have idiot scientists, especially when they’re working with stuff like—”

“Rodney.”

He stops. “Yeah?”

Long pause. “Elizabeth wants to see you about disciplining Neilson.”

That is so not what John was going to say, Rodney _knows_ it, but half his brain is occupied with fantasizing about the many and totally deserved punishments that will be brought down on Neilson’s head—boiling oil comes to mind—and the other half is fantasizing about—something else.

“Well. Good. I’ll just—go.” Pause, where neither of them moves. And then Rodney finds himself saying, “Sorry, I’m distracted. It’s been going on for the past week or so.” Seven days less ten hours, but who’s counting?

John’s mouth opens, then snaps shut. Opens again. “I—a week. Distracted, in a—” but then Elizabeth shows up behind John, and even the prospect of dangling Neilson over shark-infested waters—“I don’t care if there aren’t any sharks,” waving away objections, “I’ll get Upadhye to _bioengineer_ some specifically for the purpose” and he so would, just for the satisfaction—isn’t quite enough to get rid of the nagging feeling that there was something he would have wanted to hear, back there.

 

The night after Day 9, Rodney wakes up from an unusually vivid dream and lasts about five seconds before getting up and going to John’s quarters.

John hasn’t gotten the door all the way open before Rodney’s inside, pushing him toward the bed, pausing to kiss him, pushing him more toward the bed—

“Rodney,” John gasps.

“Yeah?” Rodney says between kisses.

“I didn’t think you wanted to do it again.”

“I didn’t think _you_ wanted to do it again. So we should be grateful that I’m an insensitive asshole and showed up anyway _oh_ God do that again.” And Rodney pushes John down onto the bed, where his legs fall apart like it's the most natural thing in the world and Rodney gets to lie down between them and _oh Jesus Christ_.

They last about thirty seconds, and afterward Rodney props himself up on his elbows and says incredulously, “You didn’t think I wanted to do it again? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past week!”

“Yeah, I figured that out. I just didn’t know if it was…in a good way.”

“Oh,” says Rodney. Pause. “Maybe we should communicate more.”

“Now you sound like a woman,” says John, and there's another pause.

“Yeah, I kind of do,” says Rodney. “Also, I think I’m working on a recovery here. You know, I’ve been thinking about your mouth a lot—”

“Oh Jesus yes,” says John, and rolls them over. As he ducks his head, Rodney decides they’re communicating just fine.


End file.
